Harry Potter and the Death Eaters’ Reprisal
by Sunscar
Summary: This tale begins shortly after the demise of Lord Voldemort... three years have passed, and Harry has graduated from Auror Training, but accepts a position as Defence Agains the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. ¤CHAPTER SEVEN UP¤ Read and review as you wi
1. Three Years' Time

It was cold. It permeated his body, flowing through his veins, chilling him to the bone. The seventeen-year-old boy stood up upon two violently shaking legs, his eyes shining with fresh tears. Darkness engulfed him; only the moon's feeble glow and the millions of shining pinpricks in the sky allowed him to see - something he wasn't completely sure he wanted to do. The grass was stained with dark streams of blood. Large clumps of earth were scattered, leaving small craters across the green. The mark of haphazard spells.  
  
The teenager's emerald eyes scanned the area around him, from the looming castle in the distance to the placid lake only a few steps away from him, when they finally rested on the lifeless corpse only a few feet from him. The body of a tall man was sprawled on the ground, a trickle of blood flowing from its mouth. Its gaunt eyes stared ahead, no longer a window to the corrupt mind that once lived. The body's narrow fingertips were still grasping it - the wand. They grasped the fatal object, the item that had caused so much grief, so much distress, so much horror, so much death... the tears begun to flow. It was the wand that had killed so many people, his parents included. The seventeen-year-old Harry Potter stepped up, relishing this moment. He bent down and pried the wand from Lord Voldemort's lifeless hands. He raised his own wand and muttered one word. "Reducto." The fiend's wand broke into several pieces, which Harry tossed into the lake with a rage-filled cry. His yells echoed to silence as he watched the remnants float out into the lake, where they were snatched by a long tentacle. The squid, no doubt.  
  
A noise behind him abruptly caused him to jump. With his wand thrust forward, he met the eyes of Hermione Granger. Her ashen face was marred soot and her usual bushy hair was matted and lined with dust. In her hand she held the fragments of her own wand, destroyed by Voldemort in his final few moments. Lying limp only a few feet away from her was the unconscious body of Ron Weasely. The memory of Harry's stunner reflecting of Voldemort's Shield Charm and hitting his friend while he was defenceless caused a lump in his throat to develop. It was only a stunner, at least, Harry thought, trying not to image the consequence if he had tried something more.  
  
Hermione stepped up to Harry, her faced filled with rivulets of tears through the ash on her face, and she wrapped her arms around Harry. "He's gone, Harry. Voldemort's gone. You did it."  
  
Harry wrapped his shaking arms around her. It was all too much. The chase, the hiding, the fight... the memories would be always be scarred into his mind. The chase across the grounds... the hiding and praying for life... the final fight... but Harry had won, and the scourge that Voldemort had become was no more.  
  
Harry released his grip on her and nodded. They both smiled, though neither were close to being happy ones. "Come on, Hermione. Let's get Ron and go back."  
  
"Potter, Harry!"  
  
Decked in very fine robes of a deep navy, Harry inhaled deeply and walked forward, stepping gingerly as not to trip on the hems. The light that shone at him was naught short of blinding. He could barely make out the shouts and cheers audience, although they were easily audible. Their applause filled the room, and Harry strongly doubted that any wizards outside couldn't hear the din.  
  
Harry made his way across the stage, stepping up to a squat wizard dressed in robes made of, oddly enough, purple denim. The wizard shook Harry's hand vigorously with both of his hands, yet still managed to give him a diploma of thick, yellow parchment.  
  
"Congratulations, Harry Potter," the wizard said in a rather unsuiting raspy voice, "for the completion of Auror Training." Harry beamed broadly at the audience, squinting. He could just vaguely make out Hermione's mirthful face and Ron's crimson hair, and from what he saw, both were clapping with considerable enthusiasm. The applause was still as loud as when he had walked onto the stage (or even louder, possibly) as Harry turned and walked back across the stage amidst the other Auror Training graduatates. They shook his hand and patted him on the back as he made his way over to where his two friends sat, each reflecting his mirth.  
  
Long had Harry been waiting this day. Auror Training was a long and tiresome process. Years had to be put in to become a dark wizard-hunter, and Harry could truthfully say he needed every mite of strength he could muster. Five years were required to go from inductee to graduate, though Harry had passed each test ahead of his peers, pushing his stay at Auror Training to three years. Three years of Auror Training, making it three years since his Hogwarts graduation. Three years since Voldemort's death. That thought had managed to worm its way into his head. He certainly had the motivation to become an Auror.  
  
"Way to go, Harry!" Ron exclaimed as he patted Harry hard on the back, jerking him from his thoughts.  
  
Hermione beamed broadly, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Harry could feel the bones his neck crack. "Congratulations, we're both very proud of you."  
  
"Thanks Ron, thanks Hermione," Harry said as he managed to free himself. Both of them stared at him with a funny expression, as if noticing his departure into thought. He made for a change in conversation. "It's pretty exciting, you know? Graduation and everything."  
  
"Any thought of what you'll do?" Hermione asked over the din of the audience as the final graduate received her diploma. "I mean, of course you'll be going to the Ministry of Magic, but do you think you'll have a desk job or a firsthand one? I hear they're hiring Aurors now to track down the remaining known Death Eaters, and there's a vacancy for a position as assistant to the Monitor of Security at Azkaban. You'd work from the Ministry and keep tabs on—well, of course you already know this. You looked into it, right?"  
  
Harry laughed and turned from Hermione, pretending he didn't hear her question.  
  
Ron looked up. "You know, I reckon Harry would fit great with the practical job. You should tell Fudge you want that job, Harry. You just doesn't fit with a desk job, do you? Fudge is right over there." Ron pointed to where a portly man with greying hair stood.  
  
Hermione scowled as she watched him make a step forward to shake another graduate's hand. "Honestly, how he ever got the be Minister... re- elected twice! It'd almost be worth moving to Spain just to not work for his Ministry. He's a terrible, terrible ma--" Harry stepped on her foot as Cornelius Fudge strode up to their table. "Minister," Hermione said sweetly as she nodded her head.  
  
"Ms. Granger," he said absently. "And Mr. Potter! I offer my congratulations. I heard from Professor Fitley you graduated top in your class. Smart fellow you are. I was wondering," Fudge said tentatively with a fleeting glance to Hermione and Ron, "if you'd be willing to have a talk with me. A private talk."  
  
"Okay," Harry replied to the unsure glances of his friends. Too much had happened with the Minister for them to take this with ease. As Harry stepped away from their table, Ron whispered, "If he tries anything, I can jinx him."  
  
Fudge took Harry right next to a wall with several photographs of noted Occlumens and Auror Training graduates. One picture featured a duel between an Auror and a dark wizard, in which the second dueller appeared to have grass growing from his head.  
  
"Well, Mr. Potter, as you know, I'm here to see if I can scout Aurors before other ministries from various countries can hire them," the minister explained as he gave a side-glance to a man with a rather muddy accent in the centre of the room. "I know we've had our - ah - tiffs in the past, but I can assure you, should you choose to work with me, there'll be a well- paying position as Head of Death Eater Detainment. So, what do you say, you'll be a fine chap and work for me, then?"  
  
Harry gazed through his thick glasses at the man. A fleeting memory of Fudge, hysterical with anger, trying to expel Harry from Hogwarts for using magic to protect himself passed through his mind. "Your offer is much appreciated, Minister,"Harry said to a delighted grin from Fudge. "I'm afraid I'll have to pass, though."  
  
Fudge's face slowly made way to becoming a deep burgundy. "Then where will you go? The Canadian Ministry? No, Kolenkhov from the Russian Ministry of Magic got to you, didn't he?" The Minister's voice was becoming rather high and wild.  
  
"Er - well, no. I already have an idea where I'm going to work, but it's not in the Minstry."  
  
"Then where?" Fudge demanded.  
  
Harry grinned and simply said, "Hogwarts." 


	2. Return to the Castle

For what had almost become ten years, the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was to raise many a brow. What had raised many whispers was that not one teacher had spent more than a year holding down that position in nearly a decade. The longest applicant, one Mr. Remus Lupin, had remained up to the second-to-last week of term. The others, a string of dark minions, celebrities, and paranoid wizards in disguise lasted just shy of that, as did the others in the three years prior to and following Harry Potter's graduation. Certainly was it no wonder how the rumour of the job being cursed developed. That's how the twenty-year-old wizard found himself on the Hogwart's Express, making its way across the plains of England to the school.  
  
_ Ron would laugh at me for being nostalgic, _Harry thought to himself with a smirk as he watched the miles of countryside fly by under the darkened sky. He had chosen the students' means of travel for no reason better than to ride the old express engine another time. Memories of many greetings and quite unceremonious duels made fleeting trips through Harry's mind. The full weight of the three years certainly made their mark now.  
  
"Blimey, I saw him! He's right in the compartment behind us. I saw him board the train and go to the back. He's got the scar and ev'rything so it's gotta be him!" an excited voice chirped from the compartment ahead of Harry. "I wonder if he's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."  
  
"Don't be a bloody fool," retorted a much deeper voice. "Even if he was gonna teach at Hogwarts, he'd have taken the teachers train."  
  
A third voice, this one female, scolded the other two for talking so loudly about Harry (in a much louder voice than the others, too) and added if they wanted to see whether or not the rumour was true, they could simply throw open the door and look. The zoo-like reaction Harry received from others hadn't changed in years, so it was quite used to, even if it wasn't welcome.  
  
The compartment's door slid open, revealing the faces of three owl-eyed children - second-years, by the looks of them. Judging by the yellow on their robes, they were each Hufflepuffs.  
  
"It's you," one curly-haired student said, awe-struck, his voice easily identifying him as the chirping one.  
  
Before Harry could get out his 'Yes, me' response, a cascade of questions hit him, each as excited and redundant as the rest. Thankfully, a voice magically sounded through the train, informing the passengers of their arrival.  
  
"Come on, we don't have to stare at him. We'll have plenty of time to ask him questions all year," the girl said, taking steps to the front, though her eyes remained glued on Harry.  
  
_Damn, would Apparation come in handy now, _Harry thought. Her certainly didn't relish the task of having to make his way up to the castle amongst a throng of gawking first-years. Alas, Apparation, one of a wizard's most powerful tools, was prohibited in Hogwarts, and a powerful enchantment enforced that rule. Despite this, Harry shut his eyes tight and made an attempt, only to open his eyes again and sigh. So close.  
  
As he stepped down from the train into the icy fingers of the night, he was met by hundreds of stares. Whispers coursed through the crowd, and many even pointed right at him. Harry could feel his face redden. He opened his mouth and made for speech, but was cut off by a rather boisterous voice.  
  
"All right you lot, c'mon. Nuttin' to see 'ere." The rather large figure of Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Care for Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts, stomped into the clearing. The train began to gain motion and continue down the tracks as Hagrid hustled the first years away from the older students. "Firs' years this way, all firs' years. You thir' years, onto the carriages you go!" Hagrid, clutching an oil lamp in his rather stubby fingers, stepped up to Harry. Clasping a hand tight around his should, Hagrid said, "Yer trip good, Harry?"  
  
"Oh, yes," Harry said, watching as dozens of winged thestrals pulled the carriages away. The rusty creaks of moans the wheels were only outdone by the un-stemmed whispers of the first-years. "It was great."  
  
"You lot, stop yer whisperin'. You'll want to save yer energy fer the Sortin' ceremony. You'll need it," Hagrid said, emphasizing the last sentence, soon cutting the whispers short. Casting a wink to Harry, the two made their way through the undergrowth, followed by a trembling queue.  
  
The thickets grew sparse, soon disappearing as the trail spiraled out of the wood. Overlooking a vast lake, Hogwarts stood atop a rocky peak, its many turrets and spires hidden amongst the darkness. The distant windows shone with light, adding light to the cloud-strewn sky. The grounds were adorned with shrubbery and rolling hills, while the distant silhouettes of goal-rings and coloured towers marked the Quidditch pitch. It was Hogwarts as Harry left it, and Hogwarts as he hoped it'd stay.  
  
Rowboats lined the shore, ready for their departure across the lake. Amidst the yells of "Four ter one boat!", the students boarded. Holding the lantern, Harry watched as Hagrid crawled into one of the boats, vainly attempting not to trip over the hem of his jacket. Harry climbed in after him, suddenly realizing their small size. They seemed so large when he was paddling them across the lake with Ron, Hermione, and Neville, yet the boats appeared to have shrunk now that he was alongside Hagrid.  
  
"Stroke! Stroke!" With Hagrid's guidance, the first-years managed to guide their boats, for the most the most part, straightly. "So, Harry! Have a nice summer?"  
  
Harry nodded, watching a dark shape beneath the water. It was most likely the squid; the merpeople didn't usually come this close to the surface. "It was great, Hagrid. Ah... After graduation, Ron and I went to Wales for a couple of weeks. Hermione was applying for some job. She didn't mention where, though."  
  
Hagrid smiled broadly beyond his tufted beard. "Yeh never know what Hermione gets up to. I noticed yeh didn't come on the teacher's train. I s'posed you wanted ter ride the train again." Harry simply nodded. "Well, that's always good. Shame yeh couldn't have sooner, though it's pro'lly best it stays a surprise. Yeh'll see at the Sorting."  
  
Before Harry could enquire further, he was cut off by Hagrid's booming yell of, "Stroke! Stroke!" The castle in the distance grew in size, until it could no longer be considered distant. The castle loomed down upon them as they climbed out from the boats. Returning to the ground on shaking legs out, the first-years made their way to the castle following Harry and Hagrid, soon resuming their whispering. This time, however, Harry wasn't the topic.  
  
"My sister said we have to fight a baby Basilisk without our wands!" one girl told the others, the quaver in her voice audible.  
  
Another boy gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I'd probably stand a better chance without my wand. I tried to do a Pinprick Charm on my grandfather's slug during the summer, and I think I got it to wince a little. That might've been the wand's sharp end, though."  
  
At that moment, the tall double-doors opened, and the steely face of Professor McGonagall peered back. "Hagrid," she greeted with a slight not. Turning her head, the corners of her mouth turned up into a slight smile. "Mr. Potter." Her eyes tilted past them to the throng behind him. "I see you've brought the first-years. Students, your bags are being brought up to the castle and will then be taken to your respective dormitories after the Sorting. Now, follow closely." As students followed through the great oak doors, gasping at the sheer vastness of the chamber, from its flights of stairs to the giant empty hourglasses dictating the house points, McGonagall whispered into Harry's ear, "Your bags have already been taken to your office on the second floor. You can go up to the Great Hall when you're ready."  
  
Nodding, Harry ambled across the highly polished floor, watching the beads of sweat form on his reflection's face. Remembering that only mirrors had autonomous reflections, Harry suddenly realized how nervous he really was. In only a few hours' time, he'd be teaching students. His training as an Auror really would help him – he had learned things that probably no Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had ever known – yet he couldn't but feel a trembling sensation in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Harry stepped up to the Great Halls entrance, and pushed hard on the doors, opening them. As they creaked open, Harry took in the familiar sight of the Great Hall of Hogwarts. 


	3. At the End of the Feast

**My apologies for the delay with the third chapter. If it happens a second time without warning, I give you full permission to take my life. Or flame me on the reviews board.**

**Preferrably the second one. Enjoy.**

* * *

As Harry walked in from the Entrance Hall, a familiar sight, something that no time away from Hogwarts could erase, met him. Four house tables, each with chattering students sitting alongside them, spanned the Great Hall. Banners adorned the wall, each portraying a different creature with different colours surrounding them. At the far back was a fifth table, this one seating the teachers. Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for many years (and many more years to come, surely), sat at the center, flanked by the rest of the Hogwarts staff, including a hooked-nose, oily-haired man, a rather unkempt witch with flyaway hair, and a brown-haired woman, seated on the far left. Harry also took notice of the three vacant seats. One was on Dumbledore's left, which undoubtedly belonged to McGonagall, who would probably be addressing the first-years at that moment. Another empty chair sat on the far right, which Harry knew belonged to Hagrid, and a third, which was located right between Professors Sinistra and Vector. Knowing that it must belong to him, Harry made his way to it, past the stares of many fixed eyes.  
  
Whispers coursed through the crowd, each of which about the reason for his presence. As Harry rounded the staff table and took his seat, it seemed the students seemed to have pieced it together. The faces at the tables beamed with joy and surprise (particularly the second and third- years, who hadn't attended Hogwarts at the time Harry had), though the same couldn't have been said about the Slytherin table. It seemed that no time could affect the relationship between the Gryffindor and Slytherin houses, and having one of Gryffindor's most celebrated members would most certainly not help.  
  
_It'll be a joy teaching that lot, _Harry thought, watching the glowers on the Slytherins' faces. Too clearly could he remember the kind of trouble they caused during Hagrid's classes. He certainly hoped he'd be better without Malfoy leading them into trouble.  
  
At that moment, the din of the Great Hall was silenced, for Professor McGonagall was striding through the tall doors, followed by the queue of terrified first-years. Hagrid marched in from the Entrance Hall, squeezing between the Hufflepuff table and the new students, carrying a rather scrubby stool. He placed it at the front of the line before hastily stepping up to his seat. With a high-pitched call, a blur of flaming orange glided in from another door. The fowl was holding what would appear to be a common hat, complete with elaborate patches and threads poking out every which way. Harry smirked. The first-years stared. The phoenix dropped the hat on its stool, where it soon erupted in song.  
  
_"Before the days of Hogwarts school,  
The land was growing fickle.  
Wizards grew and then dyed out,  
Thus we were in a pickle.  
For without our sorcerers,  
Magic would be forgotten.  
So four enchanters worked abreast,  
And Hogwarts was begotten.  
Their attributes divided them,  
Their traits drove them apart.  
Combining all their differences,  
The houses had their start.  
If you a mind of cleverness,  
Ravenclaw is your host.  
If tenets fit you like a glove,  
Hufflepuff suits you most.  
Godric Gryffindor, so brave,  
Made his house fit his traits.  
While Salazar Slytherin made his,  
Match his want to be great.  
Now tuck me snug around your head,  
I've done this for quite some years.  
I'll choose which house fits you the most,  
You have no need to fear!"  
_  
The room burst into applause, and a couple of the first-years even clapped a mite, too. Many just stared blankly, trying to work out the Sorting Hat's song – and get over the shock of seeing a piece of talking clothing. McGonagall cut off the applause with naught but a glance, unearthing a roll of parchment from her robes. Clearing her throat, she called out, "Atwood, Katrina."  
  
At that, a young girl with shortly cropped hair stepped out from the middle of the line, walking briskly to the hat. She lifted the hat with shaking hands, nearly letting it drop, before hoisting it over her head.  
  
Harry could remember all three times he had worn the frayed hat upon his head. The first, back during his own Sorting, was where the hat had placed him in Gryffindor – not before seriously considering Slytherin, though. A second time had he worn the hat was in his second year. Harry had inquired of the hat about the reasoning for him being considered for Slytherin, but the hat simply repeated himself: "You could've been great in Slytherin." The third time occurred miles below the school, in the Chamber of Secrets. The blade of Godric Gryffindor, founder of Gryffindor house, came from the hat, and saved Harry from the Basilisk.  
  
"Winter, Emerson."  
  
Harry jerked his head up, realizing that he hadn't been paying any attention to the ceremony. He clapped twice as hard as the boy was sorted into Gryffindor, though. Two more students were sorted (another Gryffindor and a Slytherin) before Dumbledore stood, hushing the crowd.  
  
"I would like to bid welcome to the new Ravenclaws, Slytherins, Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs. I'm afraid I will have to bore you with the yearly announcements, but until that time comes, tuck in! We won't have another feast like this for quite some time."  
  
At that moment, the plates appeared brimming with food, and dishes with almost every Harry had ever had tried materialized, too. The Great Hall was alive with chatter, though many took the headmaster's words to heart and didn't bother to look up, let alone chew. The staff table was not left out; several covered dishes filled enough to satisfy twice their number were laid out before them.  
  
What Harry found most interesting during the feast was the conversation around him. Aside from the casual comment from Professor Vector about the array of food in front of them and the assuring wink from Hagrid, nobody took much of a notice of Harry, so he was free to listen in on the teacher's conversations. These people had taught him for years, and hearing about Professor Sinistra's accident while charming a wart off and the wizard Professor Sprout met through the Witch Weekly's personals intrigued Harry a mite.  
  
After the passing of quite some time, when the students and staff had been fed to their stomach's content, Dumbledore arose from his seat. As he rose, the tip of his silver beard could be seen. It was a bright with orange; the professor had lent too close to his pumpkin juice, clearly. Harry couldn't help but grin.  
  
"And now that we have all have eaten to the stretching of our robes, it's time for me to make a small few notices before bed. Firstly, you are to be reminded that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds. All students and staff know this by now." Harry could have sworn Dumbledore just shot him a wink out of the corner of his eye. "Furthermore, nobody is to take a step out of the grounds, including the far side of the lake. Hogsmeade is off limits for first and second-years and for those who have yet to return the signed form, too. Finally, I must remind you that the Whomping Willow, the temperate tree on the east side of the ground is to not be approached - lest you wish to see what it looks one hundred feet above the lake, only to fall down in it afterward." Many of the students laughed, though some of the younger ones didn't share that humour. They exchanged frightened glances. "Now, before I must send you along, I must remind you of the two changes to the staff. We are honoured to say that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position has been filled again. Students, I am honoured to present to you, Professor Potter." Dumbledore motioned for Harry to stand, which he did, to the cheers of the hall. "Professor Potter has returned to Hogwarts to educate you all in that subject. We all wish him good luck in his first class, tomorrow. Secondly, as you remember from last year, we had to bid farewell to Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, who is undoubtedly sitting on a beach in Bermuda this very moment. Another round of applause to our newest Charms teacher, Professor Granger!"  
  
Harry's heart stopped dead. His mind shook with the applause, though he couldn't register those words. Remembering the brown-haired woman he had seen upon his entrance, Harry learned forward to see the other side of the table. Sure enough, sitting at the far side of the table, beaming, was Hermione. _How could I have not recognized her? _Harry thought incredulously.  
  
"And now, I'm afraid I must send you up to your dormitories with your prefects. Good night," Dumbledore bid.  
  
As the students roamed off towards the Entrance Hall, Harry bounded to his feet, making his way between the wall and the teachers' chairs.  
  
"Hello, Harry," Hermione said with a broad smile and a laugh. She seemed to find Harry's expression funny.  
  
"I... Hermione, why... er..."  
  
"Didn't I tell you?" she supplied. "Well, if you remember, you had just graduated Auror Training and were nervous about being a teacher, not to mention that big trip with Ron coming up. I didn't think you needed more to think about."  
  
"Does Ron know?" Harry asked.  
  
"I think I did mention it in passing. Harry, don't look at me like that. Yes, that. I wanted it to be a surprise for you. Now, forget these silly questions. I have an idea for your first class tomorrow. Who are you going to be teaching?"  
  
As the shock of seeing Hermione was quieted, Harry felt a nervous pang as he remembered tomorrow's classes. He didn't have anything prepared, either. "I'll be with the fifth-years from Ravenclaw for the first half of the day, and then I think it's the third years from that same house after that. The schedule is supposed to be in my office, I think."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Fifth-years? That's perfect. I've been thinking, and since I'm supposed to be with Gryffindor's sixth-years at that time, there's a way we can combine our classes that period. What do you say?"  
  
Harry nodded. "I'm okay with that. I don't have anything planned, actually."  
  
She laughed. "Oh, Harry, I already assumed that. Here, I'll explain to you the entire thing."


	4. Cruelty

Sunlight filtered through the windows, capturing the dust that hung in the air. Harry awoke, much sooner than he would've liked, but late enough to be blinded as his eyes opened. Squinting, he wiped away the sleep, and climbed out of bed. Even Auror Training didn't demand the students be up at this time.  
  
Of course, Harry had been awake past midnight. His conversation with Hermione had lasted quite some time, far after the footsteps in the hall died down. She had explained the plan for that day, which he agreed would be quite interesting for both the Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms students. After she was through explaining, the pair stayed up in the library, simply letting the conversation stray where it willed. He truly hadn't had a conversation like that with Hermione since the days of Hogwarts. Now, it always seemed that Ron was always there. Not a nuisance, of course – Ron was Harry's oldest friend. Put simply, Harry liked spending time with alone Hermione as well as Ron, and this allowed it.  
  
Harry was buttoning his robe up when a knock came at the door to his room. He strode over and opened it a crack, seeing Professor McGonagall. He fastened the rest of the buttons with great haste before opening the door wider.  
  
"Good morning, Harry," she said, taking sudden notice of the robes draped over his trunk, which had contents strewn across the floor. Harry's room was connected to his office, which was on the sixth floor. Upon arriving there the night before, he hadn't the energy to tend to the condition of his quarters. "I just wanted to wish you well for today's lesson. You've nothing to be afraid of."  
  
"Oh, thanks professor," Harry said with a quick nod.  
  
"Harry, call me Minerva. We're colleagues now, and it's only normal you greet me like one. You'll find the other teachers and staff will expect the same."  
  
"Okay, Pro—er... Minerva."  
  
She tilted her head towards him, the tight bun in her hair remaining as stiff as he'd ever seen it as she departed. _Mad woman, _Harry thought, shaking his head. Professor McGonagall had always made it clear that students address her and the rest of the teachers by their professional names. Well, she was right: they were colleagues, fellow teachers. They were no longer teacher and student.  
  
As he entered the Great Hall, Harry was met by a wave of chatter. Several of the students, all of whom he had never seen in his life, greeted him cheerfully as he strode over to the staff table. It was normal for Professor Trelawny to be absent from most meals, as she often took to gazing into her crystal ball and deciphering the remains of tea dregs over dining with students. Harry took her seat, which was at the left side, right next to Hermione. She gave him a weak greeting; the bags under her eyes said she had been here since the break of dawn.  
  
"Excited?" she asked, absent-mindedly impaling the slices of bacon before her with a fork.  
  
Harry fought back a grimace. Excited definitely was not the word – nervous was a much better fit. Nervous more than his first Sorting ceremony. Nervous more than he was when he asked Cho Chang to the Yule Ball. In fact, he couldn't remember his nerves like this since his NEWTs, or possibly his Auror Training finals. He let out an indistinct grunt, deciding not to answer Hermione's question.  
  
She laughed, though, peering at him with one of her knowing smiles. Harry really hated those. "It's obvious, Harry. You're scared." Harry shot a betrayed look at her before she continued. "I'm afraid, too! How could I not be? It's just with us working together today, we'll be able to share the blame when we mess up."  
  
Harry smiled at her weak joke. "Thanks, Hermione. It's not really today I'm worried about. It's just that I'm going to be teaching these students for so long. I'll have to teach them about everything in this subject, and a lot of it I don't know. I'm going to have to make tests, too, and make sure they know enough not to fail them, but really have to think to get the answers. It's the Slytherins, too. I have seven class of those gits to teach."  
  
Hermione merely laughed. "Oh, Harry! You went to Auror Training to learn about this subject more so you _would _know more than enough to teach these kids, and you do! You'll have me to help you if you're stuck, and it's not like you don't know how to deal with Slytherins. You could always take a leaf out of Professor Moody's – Crouch's, I mean – book and transfigure them."  
  
Her attempts at cheering him up seemed to be working. Before he could say more, Dumbledore dismissed the students to their first class and sent the teachers off to their classrooms. Hermione hurriedly told Harry she'd bring the Gryffindor sixth-years down to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class as soon as possible. She kissed him on the cheek before hurrying off.  
  
By the time Harry made it to his classroom, also located on the sixth floor across from his office, half the students had already arrived. Harry wasn't expecting much trouble from the Ravenclaws. Many of them prized education atop all else, and wouldn't think of barring themselves or their peers from that. By the time Harry had found the attendance parchment, the remainder of the class had already seated themselves.  
  
As he could remember all of the first classes of his years of Hogwarts, Harry started class by calling out the attendance. In his memory, only Snape, McGonagall, and select few of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers didn't do so, so he deemed it a fit way to start the class. Once he'd done that, Harry swallowed deeply before introducing himself.  
  
He stepped up before the class, watching them stare at him with what appeared to be mild interest. "Er... well, hello. My name's Ha—Professor Potter. This term, I'll be teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts. Now... er... I'll start by—"  
  
"Introducing me," Hermione said as she stepped through the door, followed by nearly a dozen students. "Good morning, I'm Professor Granger. Professor Potter and I will be instructing you in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts."  
  
Harry felt a strong pang of envy. Somehow, inexplicably, it came naturally to her! She had spent much of her Hogwarts days assisting Neville Longbottom, not to mention the help she often offered Harry and Ron, but it still was a shock to Harry that instructing these people came with such ease.  
  
"Professor Potter and I have spoken and agreed upon an interesting lesson for you," Hermione explained she walked between the desks, while Harry stood stiffly at the front. "We've decided to show you the uses of curses and charms in a duel."  
  
The students' faces were lit. Harry was anxious to make a lasting impression on these students, and Hermione's plan was perfect. "Right. So, He—_Professor_ Granger and I will be dueling each other, but she'll only use charms and I'll only use curses."  
  
"That's right. First, we're going to need some room. Two points to the house of each person who can charm their own desk over to the corner."  
  
Harry reluctantly charmed his own desk against the back end of the wall, leaving the rest of the room for the duel. _How does she do it? _he asked himself in thought. It was those small things that got him, such as giving away the house points. He watched as she helped repair a desk that had been smashed against the stone wall. Well, at least he'd be able to prove his worth in a duel.  
  
"Okay," said Hermione, striding to the center of the room where she faced Harry. "Standard duels begin with a bow—" they bowed "—before it commences. Starting... now!" Focusing, she cried out, "Wingardium leviosa!"  
  
Hermione's wand swishes through the air, casting the spell. Her Levitation Charm made its mark; Harry could feel his own wand lifting out of his hands. He tightened his grasp on it, only to feel himself be drawn from the ground with it. The students perched upon their desks couldn't stifle their laughter.  
  
"Relashio!"  
  
Harry countered, unleashing a cascade of crimson sparks. They propelled him to the ground, where the Levitation Charm faded.  
  
Hermione paused a moment to address the students. "As you can see, my simple Levitation Charm was informally-countered by Harry's Flash Curse. An informal-counter is when one uses a spell to oppose their opponent's, which can be compared to a formal-counter, which is when one uses a Counter- Curse."  
  
She turned to Harry, as if expecting him to add something else. He drew up a blank, and only forwarded to continuing the duel. "Odiscurso!"  
  
Harry's wand did not burst with light, though he knew the Babbling Curse had been cast. With a well-timed "Protego!" his curse was rendered useless.  
  
"Care to explain that, Professor Potter?" she asked him with a subtle grin, showing slight pride in reflexes.  
  
Harry nodded, turning to the students, some of whom were taking notes on the lesson. The rest where watching with considerable interest. "Right. Okay... well, I cast a Babbling Curse on her, which would've stopped her from saying any spells, but she protected herself with a Shield Charm. Oh, and you three, the ones taking notes, just earned five points apiece for doing so without being told."  
  
Hermione's smile widened at that. She thrust her wand forward, calling out "Reducio!"  
  
A flash emanated from her wand, then coursed through the room, jetting over the scrubby floor. Harry scrambled to hold his wand forward, nearly dropping it to the floor. He grasped it in its middle, calling out, "Refumo!" At that, a thick mist leaked from the tip of his wand. The flash met the mist, which appeared to envelope it. Soon, Hermione's spell had been devoured.  
  
"That," said Harry, taking notice of the confusion on Hermione's face, "is a Focus Curse." The mist, still hanging in the air, seemed to glow with some inner-light every odd moment. "It's higher-level magic that sort of eats another spell, but spits it out a moment later, but much more powerful." Harry spoke truth, for at that moment, a blinding light shot from the smoke. It was Hermione's Reduction Charm, magnified. The charm shot through the air at twice its original speed. It broke past Hermione's hastily-conjured Defensive Charm. "Hermione's Reduction Charm would've made me shrink to half my size, but this one is twice as powerful." As he spoke, Hermione began to rapidly shrink to a miniscule size. The class hooted at this one. Harry swished his wand, muttering an incantation, allowing Hermione to return to her original size. Judging by the frustration on her red-cheeked face, she wasn't happy.  
  
"Confundum!" she called out, flicking her wand forcefully in his direction.  
  
Harry scrambled with his wand again, though the Confundus Charm came too quickly to defend against. His stomach lurched and his head spun as the spell came in contact.  
  
"That is a Confundus Charm," Hermione said, pointing in Harry's direction with her wand. "A standard Confundus Charm works similar to a Memory Charm, but it distorts the victim's vision and mind as well as making events seem disoriented. However, I found a way to alter the proportions of this charm, making it perfect for a wizarding duel. Watch the effects on Professor Potter now."  
  
Harry straightened, for his head had suddenly stopped spinning. In fact, he more or less the same before Hermione's charm had its effect. _It must've messed up,_ he thought confidently. He saw this as a perfect opening for a spell – the Reductor Curse against her wand would work. Pointing his wand forward, Harry cast a Reductor Curse.  
  
"Riddikulus!"  
  
With widened eyes, Harry listened as a crack like a whip sound through the air as the Boggart-Defense Spell was cast. Having no Boggart target, it was rendered useless. The onlookers exchanged confused whispers, though Hermione seemed to be expecting this. _I screwed up the incantation! _Harry thought to himself furiously. _I'll try another Reductor Curse._  
  
"Avis!"  
  
Following a gunshot, several yellow songbirds appeared, filling the room with their call. Harry could only watch, stunned, at what he had conjured. _What's the matter with me? _he thought, suddenly wild with frustration. _Why can't I cast these spells?_  
  
Hermione offered an explanation. "The altered Confundus Charm makes it impossible for the victim to cast a spell. The spells in the victim's memory are randomly cast in place of the intended spell. Of course, I can undo the effects of this at the end of the duel."  
  
The students were applauding now, though many were doubled-over with laughter to the extent where they couldn't. Harry wouldn't let this stop him. He pointed his wand at his temple, and opened his mouth to say, "Finite Incantatum!" However, no words came out. A different spell had been cast! His mouth curved into an exaggerated smile, and a sense of well-being was mixed in amongst the frustration. He had fallen victim to a Cheering Charm.  
  
"Harry," Hermione said so the students couldn't hear, "stop resisting. You'll only end up hurting yourself."  
  
Harry tried desperately to stop, though it was futile. Harry placed the tip of his wand against his skull. The spell had set in, and he couldn't stop. The Confundus Charm had him in its clutches.  
  
"Expecto Patronum!"  
  
At this, the students' laughter was cut off. They watched with intent, hoping to see Harry's fabled stag Patronus gallop around the room. They were only disappointed as naught but fog wafted from his wand. That particular spell required a strong feeling of happiness, something that was absent from his thoughts. Only the Cheering Charm fueled the spell to its sub-standard degree. The students exchanged unimpressed mutters.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione pleaded. "Stop this! I can't counter the Confundus Charm if you keep casting spells."  
  
Harry tried to obey her – wished it, willed it – though it was beyond that. He pointed the wand forward and uttered another incantation.  
  
And the next sequence followed at a creeping pace, allowing Harry to see it as if it was not with his own eyes.  
  
Harry mouthed the incantation. As he did, he fought against himself to stop. Though, as the last syllable came out of his mouth, his wand tip lit.  
  
"Crucio."  
  
The crowd gasped, though they were penetrated by Hermione's scream. She collapsed to the floor, writhing. Harry waved his wand through the air, trying with ever mite of willpower he had to lift the spell. Hermione's scream continued, accompanied by tears streaming across her cheeks.  
  
Out from the corner of his eye, Harry could see, through the open classroom door, a figure. He turned his head, seeing Professor Sprout with her face aghast. She paused only moments before pointing her wand at him uttering a spell, unheard over Hermione's stricken cries. A stream of fiery sparks burst forth, knocking Harry off his feet. Before he could even hit the wall behind him, he was unconscious. 


	5. Fight and Flight

** Preamble:**  
  
Sorry about the delay in this chapter. Suffice to say, I'm pretty busy with school. While some of you may already be enjoying vacation, I'm stuck in preparation-for-exams mode. However, I'm intent on seeing this through.  
  
** In Response to Huggiebear's Third Review: **Well, the way I see it, I'd think that Hermione would have the advantage. True, Harry would've learned a great deal from Auror Training. However, he would've been learning advanced spells – spells that could potentially dole out some serious damage. Definitely not things he'd willingly use against Hermione, and not in front of fifth and sixth-years. I'd imagine Hermione would know more about those safer types of spells. Thanks for the reviews, though!  
  
** In Response to the Rest of the Reviews: **Thanks! It's greatly appreciated.

* * *

Upon awakening, the first thing registering in Harry's mind was pain. His body, throbbing as if pummeled for endless hours, ached though he just lied there. His eyes jerked open, stinging with the light.  
  
As quickly as the pain had come, though, Harry could feel it subside. As his eyes adjusted to the glare, he could see Madame Pomfrey spooning some liquid over him. _Murtlap essence_, Harry thought distantly.  
  
Tilting his eyes, Harry could see a figure sitting at his bedside. Jumping up, Harry saw Dumbledore watching him through his half-moon spectacles. The bowl was knocked out of the matron's hands, crashing to the floor. Shards flew across the room. Harry clutched his bed sheets, realizing he was in the Hospital Wing.  
  
"Now, Harry, calm down," Dumbledore said placidly. Harry obeyed, though not without reluctance. He squinted, casting around for his last memory before awakening. It was not long before it came to him, and Harry distinctly winced as it did. He had used the Cruciatus curse upon Hermione. An Unforgivable Curse, used outside the last defense before death, merited nothing less than a trip to Azkaban, the wizarding prison. The penitentiary had once been guarded by Dementors, hooded ghouls who had flocked to Voldemort in the hour of his return. They had been destroyed, then, too. Now, fierce manticores roamed the halls of the prison, which was almost a worse fate than the Dementors.  
  
Harry immediately panicked. "Professor Dumbledore, please! I didn't mean to use the curse on her! It was an accident, and she used this spell on me, so I can't go to Az—"  
  
Dumbledore hushed Harry. "You've nothing to fear, Harry. Hermione has explained to me the circumstances, and there'll be no charges."  
  
"What? There's no way anyone at the Ministry would belie—"  
  
Dumbledore cut Harry off with a simple wink and a confirming smile, saying far more than words. If he wasn't planning on informing Fudge or anyone else at the Ministry... well, Professor Sprout had seen the proceeding, stunning Harry. His back still ached. With a sudden groan, Harry remembered both the Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms classes. They had seen it unfold, and had undoubtedly told everyone else they knew. The entire school would be teeming with talk of the affair.  
  
"Dumbledore... everyone will know by now. They've probably been talking about it since... ah..."  
  
"Nine hours ago," muttered a very bitter Madame Pomfrey, who was sponging up the murtlap essence from the floor.  
  
"Er...right. There's no way I can go back to teach, and..."  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry, I told you that you've naught to fear. After you had been stunned, Professor Sprout came to your aid. She knows what happened and agrees that it isn't your fault. She and Hermione got you her, and alerted me of the circumstances."  
  
"But what about the students?" asked Harry.  
  
"They've been informed about the circumstances. With your noble history, Harry, I doubt anyone would mind. You've achieved far too much for a silly dueling incident to tarnish your reputation. Now, you're probably quite tired. I'd suggest you get some sleep before tackling anymore lesson plans. Good night, Harry."  
  
Harry, noticing he was tired, considering he had spent the last nine hours stunned, bid Dumbledore his farewells as the old Headmaster departed. It never ceased to amaze Harry at how he could take such calm control in times like these.  
  
The sounds of Madame Pomfrey bustling about died down, and soon were replaced by silence. Recounting the event in his mind, Harry hardly longed for his next class. How he could teach without outbreak was impossible, it seemed. As the images of Hermione writhing on the ground coursed through his mind, Harry nodded off, watching them play before him as dreams.

* * *

In the dead of the night, the castle of Hogwarts couldn't be less of a similar place to the Hogwarts of the day. By light, conversation filled the halls, chorusing through corridors and into rooms. Naturally, every inch of the school was covered in Sound-Swallowing Charms, which made the ruckus much more bearable. Nonetheless, the difference was still prominent. Though it always seemed that _some_ student of varying age and house was creeping about the halls, be them headed for the kitchens or some other late-night expedition, every small creak and groan of the tower could be heard.  
  
The Hospital Wing was very much the same. What was hidden from the eyes incited fear. Shadows crept across the walls, cast by interwoven instruments. Throughout this, Harry slept soundly. He had spent much time in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts as a youth, and was experiencing far too much pain at those times to bother worrying about darkness.  
  
Though quiet took its natural place by the night, it was pierced. Amidst the normal nighttime sounds of the castle, a sound in the hospital wing could be heard. Someone was lurking. The figured, garbed in black and cloaked by the night, raised a wand and uttered a silent incantation.  
  
"Imperio."  
  
Harry, who had been slumbering in his bed, suddenly sat bolt upright. Though half of his body was still asleep, the other half wondered what he was doing. Unconcern crept over Harry. _What am I doing? _he asked, detached. As he made for his wand, he suddenly realized he was sleepwalking – of the sorts. The wand was in his grasp, and the tip was slowly being pointed to his head. It dawned on Harry, coming as shock, that it was he who was doing this. He tried to shake the sleep off, but realized control was beyond him. The wand edged closer to his skull, and Harry could feel his mouth whisper a spell.  
  
"Avada Ke—NOOO!"  
  
Harry screamed out his defiance, shaking off the Imperius Curse. That unconcern was no sleepwalking. He had been cursed. Whispering yet another spell, Harry's wand tip lit, casting but a narrow beam across the room. He shone that beam across the opposite wall, amongst a cluster of beds. Somewhere through the darkness, someone was watching him.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!" the hidden figure cried out.  
  
Reacting with reflexes born from three years of training, Harry cried out, "Orchideous!" A whooshing sound emanated from across the room. He felt an unseen force was charging towards him, though knew no light could reveal it. A bouquet of flowers sprang forth from Harry's wand. A dazzling glare of green light met the bouquet, which wilted before Harry's eyes. The killing curse could not be dodged nor countered, so conjuring something to block it was the only option.  
  
At that moment, the door opened, and light poured in. Madame Pomfrey appeared, clad in fluffy pink robes and slippers, clutching an oil lantern. A cry of, "Portus!" filled the air, and before Harry could turn his head to see the character, he had disappeared.  
  
"Harry!" the matron cried out, shuffling over to Harry in her slippers. "Are you okay? My, did they hurt you? I heard spells, and—any bleeding? Burns? Impact? I can fix those, but if—"  
  
"No, thanks," Harry said, struggling free from her grip. "I'm fine."  
  
The door swung open again, revealing Professor McGonagall and Hermione. They both rushed over to him, fighting past Madame Pomfrey.  
  
"Minerva! The Hospital Wing is closed, and I'm afraid I must send you and Hermione out."  
  
Professor McGonagall didn't as much as take notice of the order. She cast a hawk-eyed gaze are Harry, and asked him, "What happened?"  
  
Harry did not go into much detail, though he explained about fighting the Imperius Curse, the semi-duel in the dark, and Madame Pomfrey's entrance. As he told her of the person's departure, McGonagall grew thin- lipped, and Hermione grew pale.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione cleared her throat. "Uh... oh, Harry! That character used a Portkey to escape. But after you defeated Voldemort, it was made so Portkeys can't be used to escape Hogwarts. You can only travel throughout it."  
  
"That person who tried to kill you," Professor McGonagall said, shaking, "is still in the school." Harry's eyes widened. "Come. You're coming to Professor Dumbledore's office. As of this moment, you're under protection."


	6. The Legaturas Charm

The Hospital Wing melted away in a smear of black and grey. A whirling sensation coursed through the man's body as the Portkey he created, what was once a simple empty beaker, transported him away amidst a swirl of blurred colours.  
  
His attempt to murder Harry Potter had failed. He scowled at that thought. The planning that had been needed, the inside-help... all to waste. His master would not be pleased.  
  
The swirling feeling subsided, and the feeling of a hook inside his navel was no more. He opened his eyes, expecting to see his hideout. Mottled cobblestones were met to his eye, and an acrid scent to his nose. Growling softly, he realized he was not where he was intended. He had been sent to the dungeons.  
  
"Blast!" the man shouted, soon biting his lip for making such a ruckus. He peered around through the eye-slits in his mask, anxious to find an exit. The Portkey had taken him to the dungeons of the castle - not where he had meant at all. He made a quick step to the exit, ready to disembark. At that moment, the door swung open, crashing loudly against the wall. Argus Filch, caretaker of the castle, stepped through clutching an oil lantern. His eyes bulged, almost protruding from their sockets.  
  
The black-garbed man snickered, eyeing the caretaker with a hidden smirk. "Filch? My, it _has _been some time."  
  
Filch growled. "You come with me! I'm taking you to Dumbledore, and then we'll see who's the one smug one."  
  
To that, the man could not help but laugh. "You? Argus Filch, the squid?" Filch's cheeks reddened in the darkness. "No. I have a much better idea. I can remember, back not too long ago, you laughing as you tortured me by making me gut frogs down here in the dungeons. Yes... I have my own means of torturing, Filch."  
  
The Death Eater thrust his wand forward, uttering an incantation. Filch's shouts echoed through the dungeons, resounding through the school. He collapsed to the floor, screaming in pure agony. His shouts did not die for quite some time.  
  
The trio rounded the corner, walking at a brisk pace. As they went, their eyes darted about. At every step, they expected to come to face with the prowler. They were poised to attack at any sign of movement. The shadows of Hogwarts hid any lurking figure, though Professor McGonagall would not let that stop her.  
  
"Stupefy!" she shouted, emitting a blaze of crimson from her wand. A cloud of dust shot up as the corner was blasted apart. She stood there, gasping for breath, watching the dust settle through her narrow spectacles. "I could've sworn I saw a... oh, never mind. Come."  
  
Harry and Hermione followed closely at McGonagall's heels. "Who do you think it could be, Harry? I mean, with Voldemort gone... do you think it could be a Death Eater? But the only ones remaining have been rounded up. How could they have known you were in the Hospital Wing. I suppose they could have walked in on you by happenstance, though that's not very likely. You don't think anybody has been hurt, do you?"  
  
"I don't know, Hermione," Harry said impatiently. He was bent on preparing to defend himself against whoever was lurking in the castle. "How did you and Professor McGonagall get to the Hospital Wing so quickly?"  
  
Hermione suddenly appeared embarrassed. The darkness did well at hiding the colour in her cheeks. "I was coming to see you and apologize. She caught me in the hall. I guess teachers who aren't on patrol aren't supposed to be out this time of night. But I'm sorry, Harry! None of this would've happened if I had stopped to think. I mean, we came so close to... to something really bad happening. I'm so sorry." A quaver rose in her voice. Had the torches been lit, Harry would've counted on seeing tears.  
  
Harry's did not reply, for they had just stepped up to the great stone gargoyle aside the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The gnarled beast sat on a pedestal, snoring loud enough to wake the entire tower. Growling, McGonagall hit the creature across the head.  
  
"Wake up!" she belted at it. "We must see Dumbledore."  
  
The creature yawned, scratching its cracked and worn-down skull. "Password," it said groggily.  
  
McGonagall shouted the password at it, shoving it aside. Hermione and Harry stared, shocked at the headmistress's brutality. She had been far from the sweetest character at Hogwarts, though they had never seen such aggressive behavior. The creature skulked at the side of the entrance, muttering about receiving no respect.  
  
They burst into the office, expecting it to be as darkened as the halls outside. However, the torches against the walls were lit, and Dumbledore was already garbed, standing before them.  
  
"Dumbledore," McGonagall began, rushing towards him, though he cut her short.  
  
"Minerva, I've already heard. Ms. Derwent has already informed me," he said, gesturing to a painting of a now-sleeping headmistress. "We mustn't dally. I want you to awaken the teachers. The Heads of Houses must guard the students, and each student is to spend the night in their respective common room – not the dormitories. They are to be seen at all times. You go with her," he added, nodding to Hermione. She nodded intently before hurrying off after McGonagall.  
  
Harry took a step forward to follow them, though Professor Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Not you, Harry," Dumbledore said, taking a step to his desk where his wand lay. He picked it up, admiring it. "Presumably, whoever is in the castle is after you, Harry. I doubt they will unnecessarily harm someone else, though that chance cannot be taken. I must go out to protect my students. No room in Hogwarts is safer than this very one, and to protect you, I can perform a charm to bind you to it."  
  
Harry blinked, lost. While it seemed logical that Dumbledore's office was safest, he could not see how it would be so without Dumbledore there to guard him. And that line about binding him only made him blink more.  
  
"The Legaturas Charm can be used to bind someone to a room. They cannot escape. Ancient enchantments placed on this room will not allow any harm to befall you while you remain here. With your approval, only, I can bind you here. You will be safe against the intruder." Dumbledore peered at Harry through his spectacles with twinkling eyes.  
  
Harry only partially understood what he was being told, but it seemed to make sense. "Okay, then."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, raising his wand. "Legatura Aveconcenso." Dumbledore's wand swished in front of him, crossing sharply through the air. The headmaster's eyes were closed for concentration, it seemed. Magic that needed strict concentration from a wizard of Dumbledore's level was difficult indeed.  
  
Harry felt nonplussed, as if no spell had been cast. Dumbledore's eyes opened. "I'm afraid I must tend to the matter at hand, Harry. You're safe here." He smiled reassuringly, though only halfheartedly. He seemed slightly detached about what he had just done. Harry was sure it was because of the infiltration. The headmaster strode off, his plum robes trailing off behind him.  
  
Sighing, Harry crossed over to the window. The grounds were as dark as ever, completely bereft of light. The moon failed to bathe them with its glow that night, for the plumes of cloud above seemed to conceal all. Harry pushed open the window, hoping to tempt in a breeze. His heart skipped a beat as his hand could not reach any further than the frame. A nonexistent barrier blocked it. _It's Dumbledore's charm_, he realized, shaking the surprise off. The door would probably work the same, too.  
  
Harry sat down against the wall. He could not possibly imagine who would be after him. How they had known he was in the Hospital Wing was another mystery to ponder. _Later_, he thought, realizing how tried he truly was.  
  
The wall was far from comfortable, though it made for a welcoming place to rest in his state. He could feel his head slide against the stone wall, coming closer to the floor. By the time he hit the ground, Harry was already asleep.

* * *

** Note: **Just making a small note saying that a lot of the stuff in this chapter that probably didn't make sense (the Legaturas Charm, for example) will be explained next chapter. This note is to battle the onslaught of 'Huhs?' I'm expecting to receive in the reviews.


	7. Filch's Replacement

The Forbidden Forest gleamed under the early-morning blaze. Shadows and shapes lurking crept back to the thick of it, only to wait for night again for them to prowl. The lake gave off a blinding light as the sun cleared the horizon, soon passing over the trees and mountaintops surrounding the castle as it did.  
  
Through the open window, light poured into Professor Dumbledore's office, casting back the remaining night still creeping. Magical instruments, each more delicate and sinuous than the last, cast their shadows upon the cobblestone walls, which were adorned with dozens of snoring portraits. Harry's head lay lolled to the side, for he was crouched against the wall, still unawake. He gave a sudden start as the door crashed against the wall. Hermione came running in from the hall.  
  
"Harry!" she cried out, seeing him shield his eyes against the brightness, "Filch is dead!"  
  
If the sudden sound and blazing light did not wake Harry, this certainly did. He stood, looking highly bemused. "Dead... but how, why?"  
  
"He was found in the dungeons only about half an hour ago. We've been combing the castle and the grounds the entire night. The dungeons were the last place we got to, and when we got there... Filch was just lying there on the ground. Dumbledore said whoever had killed him had tortured him first before doing the job. I've no idea how he knew that, though."  
  
Harry was stunned. "But... what is Dumbledore going to do now?"  
  
Hermione shrugged ruefully. "Not sure. He sent me to get you. I can take off the Legaturas Charm when you're ready."  
  
Shaking the news from his head, Harry stretched, trying to do away with the results of sleeping against a solid, stone wall for half the night. "Thanks. I wanted to help you guys, you know. A lot."  
  
"It's okay, it really is." She turned and unearthed her wand from he pocket. Mutter silent words under he breath, Hermione flicked her wand about. After a moment, she faced back to Harry. "There, that should do it... if you ask me, Harry, I was quite proud of you for taking it so well. I thought you'd be much angrier about it."  
  
His brow furrowed. "Your thought I'd be angry? Dumbledore bound me here because it's the safest place in Hogwarts. He said that by staying here, there's no way the intruder could've hurt me. I don't see what there is to be angry about."  
  
Quite abruptly, Hermione's face flushed, and her eyes darted away from his. "Erm... that's good, Harry. Here, let's go..."  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Yes, fine," Hermione said in an attempt at nonchalance, "but we must get going."  
  
Harry paused. He had known Hermione long enough to know when he was being kept from something, and he wouldn't let her leave until she told him. He didn't care if he has to use the Legaturas Charm on _her_. "What is it, Hermione? Tell me."  
  
"Absolutely nothing, Harry—"  
  
"Hermione," he said firmly. She flushed again, once more trying to avoid eye contact. She sighed at last, defeated.  
  
"Fine, Harry, but you won't like this. It's just that... last night, when Dumbledore left, he was talking to Professor McGonagall. I sort of heard them speaking. Dumbledore was just saying to her – discreetly, of course, not in a gloating way at all – that he had bound you here because he didn't want you chasing after the intruder."  
  
"What?" Harry said, dumbfounded. "But he told me—"  
  
"Yes, he told you it was to help him from hurting you. I think he was afraid of you hurting yourself, Harry. The Legaturas Charm can only be performed with the complete consent of the person being bound. If he told you that he didn't want you running off and being reckless, trying to track down the intruder and dueling him yourself instead of getting help, then you wouldn't have given him consent. Or it would've taken up time we didn't have. So you see, Harry, Dumbledore didn't have any other choice," she finished feebly. She looked at him in a pleading way, as if begging he wouldn't make an outburt.  
  
Harry, however, was still struck dumb. Dumbledore had been very cryptic while Harry was at school, often tossing him riddles hither and thithrt to ponder out. Seldom did he ever give an honest answer in the full. He had even withheld information from Harry, deeming him too young to be exposed. Never, though, had he ever told a blatant lie to him. He would not let this pass.  
  
"He lied, Hermione," he said brusquely. "He's never done that. I mean, he thinks I'm going to run off and tail this guy—"  
  
"Is he wrong, though, Harry?" said Hermione absently. It was as if she had just realized what had come out of her mouth; she clasped her hand over her mouth and flushed crimson. It was as if Ron himself was standing before him. "Sorry, Harry. It's just... you've done some pretty rash things before. You went after Sirius in our third year."  
  
"You were with—"  
  
"And you went through with the Triwizard Tournament, even though you went old enough."  
  
"I didn't have a choice, I had to go, I didn't want to do the stupid—"  
  
Hermione sighed, making it quite clear she regretted insinuating this to begin with. "All I'm saying is that you've been known to do rash things. I just don't entirely blame Dumbledore for doing what he did."  
  
Harry's teeth ground against each other loudly. Rash, was he? His hands were tightly clenched until they had become pearly white, and his face prickled with red. He held up one finger, opening his mouth to say something to her. After a long moment's pause, when no words came to him, he stormed out of the office, leaving Hermione to herself.  
  
**  
**  
And so, Harry was not seen speaking but one word to Hermione since him. She had caught him in the corridors on more than one occasion, trying to get him to say something to her, but he kept on past her. In his school days, he usually had a friend like Ron to lean back on when he and Hermione had a tiff. Now, Ron was at the Ministry, and couldn't possibly keep Harry company. He was truly alone.  
  
Classes continued as usual, or what Harry had hoped they'd be. Dumbledore had been right in one thing: the students really were forgiving about that whole dueling affair with Hermione. True, they did show a distinct hesitance at the beginning, though they soon worked past it. _Though that was all Dumbledore had been right about_, Harry thought stubbornly. Dumbledore had not spoken to him since the night with the intruder, which suited Harry just fine.  
  
The weeks meandered by, evaporating at an excruciatingly slow pace. By the time September drew to a close, and the sunshine that greeted them each day dimmed, Harry was almost thinking longingly of just about anywhere besides Hogwarts.  
  
He had to focus on the task at hand, as he tried to assure himself one cloudy October day in the library. He was scrawling facts about Hinkypunks from a textbook for his third-year class, unnoticed as usual. A small throng of students and Madame Pince, the librarian, were the only other people in the library.  
  
Now more than ever Harry longed for Ron's company. If only to hear his voice, and know that he wouldn't have to spend the next nine months left to himself.  
  
"Hullo, Harry."  
  
He spun around, seeing Ron Weasely standing there. Like his youth, Ron stood much taller than Harry, or most wizards in general, for that matter. His face was flecked with hundreds upon hundreds of tiny red freckles, with his bright red hair matching them. The size of his feet, nose, and hands could rival most others, too. Harry also noticed that Ron was decked in dark, tattered robes.  
  
Harry could only sputter out half-finished words. At last, he finally managed say, "What?"  
  
Ron laughed. "Well, Hogwarts needs a new caretaker now that Filch is gone, doesn't it?"  
  
"So... you're going to be..."  
  
"I'm the new caretaker. I heard about the whole thing, so I quit my job and applied here. I can't let you and Hermione battle dark wizards alone, can I?" 


End file.
